


I See a Darkness (and I crave it)

by mrmara



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Control, Eventual Smut, F/F, Oral Sex, Power Play, Sexting, Strap, Teasing, Voyeurism, eve wears The Dress again, perpetual horniness from these two ladies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 07:23:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19389274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrmara/pseuds/mrmara
Summary: After Eve watches Villanelle kill a woman and let a bus run over her (2x06) she has to find a way to reel Villanelle in.





	1. Chapter 1

_Ready?_

Her eyes are alert, piercing the composed film of reality that underlays Eve’s being. If it’s even possible for Eve to still feel shocked, she’s feeling it now. Shock in combination with something else, but what? Fear? Unlikely. Lust? Most definitely. Jealousy? Nail on the head. She realizes that she doesn’t just want to feel the snap herself, but she wants to be the snap. She wants Villanelle’s arms around her, ready to caress or kill her at any moment. She’s envious, and deep within her craving bubbles. But, as her mother would say, “out of sight, out of mind.” She can’t let Villanelle know; she can’t relinquish her truest desires to her because Eve knows Villanelle knows exactly how to satisfy them. She’d do it with a smug grin, too. Eve notices how heavily she has been pressing into the glass window and slowly rescinds her palm. The air feels thinner and her lungs heavier. _In out in out_.

Flashing lights arrive and they hit Villanelle’s skin at just the right angle. Her ivory skin is smooth and inviting, even against the heinous pink wig this mission warranted. From afar, Eve wonders how she must look to those around her. Worried, excited, lapsed in her own consciousness? She really has to go. Besides, Carolyn will be waiting for her, already knowing of the events that just transpired, despite Eve not telling her. Somehow information is a commodity Carolyn poaches from every walk of life, with an ease and stoicism Eve wishes she had. Maybe then she could have Villanelle all to herself, she thinks, not knowing she already does.

Eve arrives at the foot of Carolyn’s door, swallowing down the last of her mediocre coffee and swearing at herself for spilling some of it on her cardigan. If it hadn’t already been a day, it sure was now.

The door whips open with Carolyn standing casually in its wake. “Eve, good of you to come.” Carolyn motions Eve inside in an obligatory fashion, pretending not to notice the coffee stain on her shirt or the furrow in her brow that had been there since this afternoon. Eve shuffles in, beginning to say something, but is immediately cut off by Carolyn- “I am aware of today. So, if that’s what you were going to tell me, spare the words. Now, do we know what this means going forward?” Eve, per usual, is taken aback by Carolyn’s straightforwardness; she doesn’t even bother putting her coat or bag down. “Are we going forward?” Eve blurts out, finding it difficult to restrain the confusion and anger in her voice. “We have no choice,” Carolyn replies coldly, turning to make her way into the dining area. Eve follows with half the sense of urgency she usually would.

Eve plops her belongings down on the dining room table and takes a seat, letting the frustration and exhaustion ooze out of her. Carolyn leans on the kitchen counter opposite the table as if she were a Grecian statue, with all the discipline and insight procured over great expanses of time. “She’s proven to be quite the hire, hasn’t she?” Carolyn says, breaking the silence and attempting to aid Eve’s undeniable tension. “She has,” Eve replies with a stern chuckle. “How long, Eve, do you think you can manage her?” Carolyn shifts into a more sincere tone. Eve’s jaw clenches. “As long as I need to,” she says confidently, but they both know there’s a wariness to this statement. “Well, you do need to. I understand it’s not a simple task I’m asking of you, but control must be maintained, Eve. This mission is far larger than just you or her,” Carolyn says finally, almost expecting opposition from Eve. “I understand. And again, I can manage her,” Eve reassures Carolyn. “Very well,” Carolyn continues, “I don’t need to know how, as long as it’s done.” Eve’s eyes bounce away from Carolyn and she nods inquisitively.

Not wanting to overstay her welcome, and feeling that the meat of the conversation has passed, Eve gets up to make her way out. Carolyn follows and opens the door for Eve. “One last thing, if control is to be maintained I’d recommend not subjecting yourself to physical scrutiny.” Carolyn’s face is unreadable, which isn’t out of the ordinary, but Eve is genuinely confused. “What?” Eve isn’t ever aware of what Carolyn knows, but she’s hoping for once she doesn’t know more about Eve than herself. “The coffee stain, Eve. It’s oftentimes easier to heed others respect when you yourself are kempt, to say the least.” “Oh,” Eve is relieved. “I’ll keep that in mind going forward I guess,” she says before sheepishly backing off of Carolyn’s front steps. With a casual wave Eve is off and heading away from Carolyn’s home, mulling over the ways in which she could (hopefully) control Villanelle if that was even possible.

* * *

Eve decides the first step in reeling in Villanelle is knowing exactly what the hell she’s doing. Both long-term and currently. Eve pulls out her phone, stopping in the middle of a busy sidewalk, and pulls up a new text message tab. 

_To: V_

_From: Eve_

_Where are you?_

Eve wanted to make the text more in tune to her emotions right now, saying “where the hell are you?!” but she decides that maybe being more level will help her keep her control over Villanelle, as well as her composure at large.

A buzz.

_To: Eve_

_From: V_

_Wherever you’d like me to be, boss._

Fuck, she’s going to make this hard. Eve rolls her eyes.

_To: V_

_From: Eve_

_That’s not what I asked._

If Eve was to solidify herself as Villanelle’s handler for the purposes of MI6, she had to remain focused.

_To: Eve_

_From: V_

_Are you being stern with me? :0_

Eve chuckles at the absurdity, as well as the nerve, of Villanelle. In an effort to stay on target, she doesn’t dignify Villanelle’s text with a response. Eve slips her phone back into her pocket and continues walking.

Another buzz.

_To: Eve_

_From: V_

_I’m sorry for being so misbehaved, I guess I’m bored XD. Where are you, Eve?_

As if Villanelle doesn’t already know where she is, Eve thinks. Somehow she always does, even when Eve herself has no clue where she’s heading. _Remain professional,_ Eve remembers typing her response.

_To: V_

_From: Eve_

_That’s none of your concern. I’d recommend staying out of further trouble, though._

Eve means it as more of a demand, but she performs it as a recommendation as she knows Villanelle’s streak of inherent rebellion to any form of authority.

_To: Eve_

_From: V_

_But I am concerned, and what kind of trouble do you mean, Eve?_

Eve almost laughs out loud. Was this really happening? All she’s trying to do is control a coworker (a subordinate?) she’s responsible for, and it really shouldn’t be this difficult. But like most things with Villanelle go, why would this be any different?

_To: V_

_From: Eve_

_Any trouble. Stay out of it._

Eve thinks she’s gotten the last laugh and drops her phone back into her pocket. Is she heading home? She forgets.

Another buzz disrupts her train of thought.

_To: Eve_

_From: V_

_What about the fun kind? :)_

Eve’s face heats up as she decides whether to respond. _Professional. Control her_. The phone drops back into her pocket and she heads for the grocer. It’s almost five.

* * *

It’s now around six and Eve is returning home, groceries (and wine, more importantly) in hand. Today had been excruciatingly unusual and grocery shopping always makes her feel like she has some tie to her past self, whether she actually does or not. Struggling with the keys, Eve finally makes her way in with her bags and sets them down on the kitchen table. As routine as flicking on the lights of a dim room, Eve goes to grab the bottles of wine from the heaviest bag. She abandons the other grocery bags, despite having perishable foods in them. What're a few more rotten goods in her life? 

Eve gets down a glass from the cabinet of mismatched dishware and pours herself a healthy glass of wine. Red, of course. She leans against the kitchen sink and takes a few long sips. Her first glass is already almost gone. Good, she thinks. From the table, her purse buzzes. It wouldn’t be Niko, would it? Eve hopes not.

_To: Eve_

_From: V_

_Now that you’re home, could you please take off that hideously stained shirt?_

Eve darts her eyes around the room. What the fuck? Was Villanelle in her house again? Would Eve mind if she was? Eve looks down at her shirt. It is kind of hideous, stain or no stain. She hates when Villanelle’s right.

The glass of wine, in combination with having no dinner, is making Eve warm and malleable, but she’s still running Carolyn’s words through her head. _Control her._ She did say she didn’t care to know how right? Eve ponders this. Is she really going to start questioning the morality of her actions, now? Another buzz hits the pads of Eve’s fingers.

_To: Eve_

_From: V_

_Are you just going to ignore me, Eve?_

God, she’s persistent. Eve will give her credit for that. If this is the only way Eve can hold her attention, and (possibly) control her, would it be so wrong? Besides, who would know other than Villanelle and her? Carolyn already said she didn’t care, so long as the job got done. Other than that, Eve has no one to answer to. Not Niko, not even herself. She’s far past taking the moral high ground.

_To: V_

_From: Eve_

_Would that even be possible? What with you blowing up my phone every minute?_

Eve still has no clue where Villanelle is, but she knows she can see her. She is suddenly very aware of every move she makes. She tilts back her head and suggestively finishes off her wine, licking the edge of the glass.

_To: Eve_

_From: V_

_Have another glass of wine. And while you’re at it, pour one out for me?_

Eve chuckles deeply, knowing Villanelle can see her. Maybe the only way to control Villanelle was by losing control herself. Does that even make sense? Was Eve already tipsy? Surely not, but her thoughts are tangled much the same.Eve gets down another glass and pours it, more full than her own.

_To: V_

_From: Eve_

_Are you coming?_

Eve waits for any movement in the house. She halfway expects Villanelle to just drop down out of the ceiling, tackling her to the ground. Before she explores the eroticism of that sentiment, her phone buzzes.

_To: Eve_

_From: V_

_I might be._

Goddamn. She is good. Before Eve thinks to stop herself, she mouthes _bastard_. With the knowledge that Villanelle is nearby and the fact that she’s suddenly very aware of what clothes she has on, Eve abandons the wine glasses and heads upstairs to put something else on.

As Eve sifts through her drawers for something to put on, another buzz.

_To: Eve_

_From: V_

_Something not stained. Also, put your hair down._

Eve smiles. This could work.

_To: V_

_From: Eve_

_Maybe I like this shirt, and maybe my hair is comfortable as is._

Eve taunts her, knowing it’ll bring them closer together. This is for work, she tells herself. But even assuring herself of this she knows it’s bullshit.

_To: Eve_

_From: V_

_Please._

Eve imagines Villanelle eagerly awaiting her next move, sitting on the edge of wherever she is to watch if Eve obeys. Villanelle has behaved in no way to earn rewards, but for the sake of her work, Eve will indulge her.Slowly, Eve brings down her dark, untamed curls and lets them flow wildly across her shoulders. Wherever Villanelle was right now, she was watching. And this makes Eve rabid with power. The power to pack it all up and stop at any time, but she doesn’t want to. She wants to see how far she can take this, how far she can push the reigns of her control. Carolyn wouldn’t know and, even more likely, wouldn’t care.

Eve continues to go through her drawers, searching out the perfect outfit. She comes across the dress. Her fingers dance atop its soft fabric and she carefully picks it out. Lifting it up, she goes to smell it, as if she can still smell that night all over again. All that it was and all that it meant. Eve doesn’t ask for permission to put it on, she knows it’s what Villanelle wants.

Tender fingers lift Eve’s shirt up over her shoulders, teasing some deeper intimacy. She pretends that they’re Villanelle’s. Eve considers her bra. She’s facing the drawers, so wherever Villanelle is, she can’t even really see Eve’s chest anyway. She’ll keep that from her, for now at least. With her mind made up Eve unclips her bra and lets it fall to her bedroom floor. She knows Villanelle isn’t texting because she’s too busy watching, and that excites Eve. Now for her pants.

_To: V_

_From: Eve_

_How about these pants?_

Eve could do this forever. Imagining Villanelle writhing in some dark space over Eve’s every move makes her hot.

Almost immediately a text comes in-

_To: Eve_

_From: V_

_Take them off._

Eve bites her lower lip. This is too easy, and she’s going to up the ante. The light switch is just to the right of Eve and she teases the tip of her index finger over it, waiting for a reaction.

_To: Eve_

_From: V_

_Don’t you dare, Eve._

Eve smiles over her shoulder. To where, she’s not exactly sure, but she knows Villanelle can see her. She flicks off the lights. In her nose, she can smell Villanelle’s blood boiling. Carolyn would be proud, she thinks.With the shroud of dark now covering Eve, she undresses the rest of the way and slides into her dress. It feels better now than it did the first time. Maybe it’s the raised circumstances, or maybe it’s knowing that come morning this dress could be ripped to shreds, utterly destroyed, lifeless.

Eve checks her phone, despite not hearing a buzz. No texts. She wonders what Villanelle is thinking, where she is, and when she’ll come for her. Eve drops her phone into a drawer and makes to exit her room. She’s most surprised that Villanelle hasn’t jumped her bones already, darting in from some window from some remote area to take her away into the night. She’s glad, though. The ball is still in her court.

* * *

Moments later, Eve approaches the bottom of the stairs. She had taken her time looking through the hallway, even looking into the bathroom, for Villanelle. No signs were found. Until now, as she walks into the kitchen, where Villanelle is standing proudly against the counter. She’s got a long, green trench coat on with a hooded jacket on underneath. It’s modern, androgynous, and it’s driving Eve insane at first glance. Her jacket is glistening slightly, so Eve deduces she was probably outside standing in the drizzle. The groceries have been put away somehow and Villanelle’s glass of wine Eve had poured for her earlier is drained. Eve leans into the wooden panel of the entryway, confident of herself. “That was very rude, you know,” Villanelle says without introduction. Eve parts a smile and bounces a shoulder, ignoring the comment. Instead, Eve has other questions. “Did you put my groceries away?” Villanelle chuckles and lets out a small _humph_ , walking closer to Eve, but still a good five feet away. “You really shouldn’t leave vegetables outside of the refrigerator, Eve. Besides, I thought we might need the extra space.” Eve’s eyebrows raise on instinct and her mouth starts to water. She can’t tell if it's from the dryness of the wine she had previously, but she assumes it’s not. Either way, she needs more. A few more drinks and she’d let Villanelle drag her straight to hell, no questions asked. 


	2. Chapter 2

_Ready._

The implications lie thick in the air. The possibilities are even heavier. Eve is less than composed but doesn’t want to appear that way. She saunters around the dining room table opposite Villanelle and goes for the wine bottle, pouring herself another glass and refreshing her lips with a lick of the tongue. Villanelle is eyeing her ferociously as if looking away for one minute would warrant Eve’s exit. She shifts slightly in her jacket. Now that she’s inside the double layers are too warm. Eve notices. “I’m sorry maybe I am rude, can I take your coat?” It’s genuine but it’s playful, enough to make Villanelle’s eyes bounce down to Eve’s outstretched hands. Villanelle smiles and considers the offer. “No, I am perfect actually,” she states confidently, ignoring the fact that she is actually quite warm. She can’t tell if it’s because she’s no longer in the cold outdoors, or if it’s because of how sinfully good Eve looks in that dress. The red wine, Eve’s flowing curls, the dress carefully cradling her curves...Villanelle decides it’s the latter.

In an effort to calm her heart rate, as well as cool her blood, Villanelle starts in another direction of the conversation, wanting to savor every moment of tonight. “So, how was your day?” It’s utterly domestic, and Eve resents how it reminds her of Niko, but she knows Villanelle is just prodding the tender happenings of the mission. She wants to work Eve up, and she is wholly aware of this. “Well, I think you know how it went,” Eve replies nonchalantly, taking a passive sip from her glass. “Of course, but I want to know what you are thinking,” Villanelle replies honestly, as far as Eve can tell. “How are you so sure that I am?” Eve slides the words over to Villanelle as if she knows them to be true. When will Eve break down her facade? Villanelle scrunches her eyebrows as an unintentional smile takes form. “Eve,” Villanelle starts slowly, “it is impossible for you to be in that dress and not be thinking about anything.” Once again, she’s right. Eve doesn’t deny it either. She’s a bit past having the ability to deny that she wants Villanelle.

“So, why are we in the kitchen?” Eve finally says, looking for an actual answer. What she really means to ask is: why aren’t we in my bedroom? And why aren’t we already fucking? It’s a dance, she knows, but patience has never been a strong suit of either of theirs. “This is where you eat, correct?” Villanelle says in earnest, following with a little wink. If it weren’t for the physical insinuation Eve wouldn’t have been able to tell if it was a joke or not. “Oh, are you hungry?” Eve plays back. This is all so natural to her oddly. Niko and she were never very good at the back and forth. “You know I am.” Villanelle shifts her right leg back slightly as she can feel herself growing impatient, to say the least. Eve notices the movement and drinks it in. Did Villanelle want her to see? She wonders if Villanelle is trying as hard as she is to stay composed. She guesses the motion could answer that question.

“And thirsty? I noticed you finished your wine,” Eve motions to Villanelle’s glass. “Quite. I’d love another cup, Eve.” Villanelle picks up her glass, forcing Eve to come all the way over to her to pour another glass. The smirk that crosses her face is alluring and Eve wonders how many people have died moments after seeing that same smile. Eve doesn’t care. Make it hundreds, thousands. She wouldn’t even mind being one of them as long as she gets to be with Villanelle before it happens.

Villanelle’s smell is immediately intoxicating as soon as Eve enters her personal space, slowly pouring the wine into her glass so she can absorb as much of Villanelle as she can. Eve isn’t the only one affected either. Villanelle takes in the scent of Eve’s wild curls and bites the inside of her cheek. This woman must use some type of coconut shampoo. Whatever it is, it’s fucking brilliant, Villanelle thinks. She fantasizes about washing Eve’s hair, caressing her head and running her hands through the wet darkness of it all. A deep exhale escapes Villanelle’s chest. This is a lot.

Eve is in such a trance that she forgets what she’s doing and nearly fills Villanelle’s glass all the way to the brim. Internally, _fuck_. Villanelle’s eyes widen when she notices Eve’s over-pour. This is but another opportunity for her to scandalize the already intimate situation. “Eve, you wouldn’t be trying to get your colleague drunk and take advantage of her, would you?” Villanelle expresses with a fake gasp of shock. Against what would be her typical reaction, Eve’s face doesn’t flush and she doesn’t get embarrassed. Instead, she leans in and whispers, “good thing I’m not your colleague, I’m your boss.” An intelligent play. Eve’s eyes sparkle with victory, lapping themselves over the sight of Villanelle not knowing what to say just yet. Eve really has taken Villanelle aback and, for once, she really doesn’t know what to say. It’s an unusual feeling but welcomed.

Finally, “I have no boss, Eve.” Villanelle runs a long finger down Eve’s side, feeling the fabric of the dress she had spent so much money on so long ago, “but I will let you tell me what to do.” Eve’s breathing hitches at this and she looks down at Villanelle’s finger running itself up and down her side. Respiration is suddenly the least important function for her body to carry out. _In out in out_.

With one hand Villanelle tantalizes Eve while the other knocks back her refreshed glass of wine. She didn’t normally drink a whole lot, but she needed something to mellow herself out. If they continued at this rate, who knows what Villanelle could get up to. Besides, if she was going to take it at Eve’s pace she’d need something to slow her down.

Eve watches Villanelle drain her glass once again and turns back around to the table to grab the bottle. Why was it suddenly so far away? It’s a stretch and she leans across in hopes that she can reach the other side. The dress hugs Eve’s skin perfectly and Villanelle is too aware of this. As if she wasn’t already undressing Eve with her eyes, the fact that she is now leaning over the table makes Villanelle feral. She doesn’t want to scare Eve by just immediately folding in on her, even though that’s what she desperately wants, so instead, she grabs Eve’s hips softly and fixates herself behind Eve. She wants Eve to feel her warmth, the pulse throbbing through her entire body eagerly awaiting satisfaction. Villanelle leans over Eve’s body and whispers into her ear, “more wine won't quench this thirst.” Eve can feel Villanelle behind her and the soft accented words rolling into her ear makes her shut her eyes momentarily. Usually, a line as cheesy as that would sound ridiculous, but when Eve hears Villanelle say it it’s like all those shitty made-for-TV movies cease to exist and those words belong solely to Villanelle. Eve’s mind is a swarm of wants and desires; Villanelle’s is much the same. It’s hard to be in control when Villanelle feels this good against her, Eve thinks. _Fuck_.

* * *

Abandoning the wine, Eve pushes herself back into Villanelle, moving them both about a foot back. Villanelle’s core tightens and she takes in a sharp breath, holding it for a few seconds before she’s able to release. Was Eve actually trying to kill her? Was she trying to get Villanelle to kill her? Where was this confidence in Eve coming from? The urge for Villanelle to thrust forward into Eve is rampant, but somehow she manages to control it. Eve’s a sly woman and she knows exactly what she’s doing, they’re both aware. As if she hadn’t just dry humped Villanelle, Eve gets herself back up and walks towards the sink, lightly removing Villanelle’s hands from her waist. Villanelle can’t help but let a disappointed pout cross her face. It’s welcomed by Eve though, it’s feeding her. 

On the shelf above the sink is an old radio and Eve reaches up to twist the dial, searching for some light background music she thinks will help the mood. She settles on an old Stevie Wonder song, something about “I was made to love her,” which Eve feels is fitting. She turns to Villanelle as if she’s asking if it’s alright. Villanelle walks over to Eve and, although it is a good song, she reaches up over Eve and twists the dial back. She’s close enough to Eve to feel her breath on her neck. Eve imagines what it’d feel like to just rip her teeth into Villanelle’s neck. Would it run like an engorged apple, fluids cascading down her skin? Would there be a distinct sound? She’s very aware of her proximity to Villanelle’s body, arteries and all. “Not a fan of Stevie Wonder?” Eve teases as Villanelle fixes her stare back on her. Villanelle bites her bottom lip and leans back into Eve, smelling her hair and pushing it away from her ear. In a whisper, “I am, but I’d rather hear you, Eve.” _In out in out._ It’s a fib because Villanelle doesn’t really listen to music, but she figures it’s acceptable for her larger purpose. Eve certainly doesn’t mind either.

Eve grabs one of Villanelle’s palms and slowly moves it up under her dress. Before Villanelle reaches the peak of Eve’s thigh she asks, “you are sure?” God, even this question is sexy. Eve is surprised at Villanelle’s chivalry and it only turns her on more. Eve replies by grabbing the end of Villanelle’s elbow and pushing it up so her fingers discover Eve’s lack of underwear. “That’s very naughty, Eve.” Villanelle’s hands already feel so good and they’re not even inside her yet, Eve thinks. Would she be able to handle this? The angle Villanelle is reaching up at the present is a tad awkward, so she hoists Eve up onto the counter in one swift motion, knocking over a few misplaced bowls and pieces of cutlery. Eve grunts as her ass hits the solid tile. She wishes she weren’t still in the dress. Not that she didn’t love it, but she’d rather be wearing Villanelle’s skin around hers; soft and fluid and strong.

Villanelle and Eve are close. Eve’s legs are wrapped around Villanelle’s waist and their faces are near enough to kiss. Villanelle’s hands are planted on either side of Eve on the counter. “So,” Villanelle starts, “are you going to tell me what to do?” Oh yeah, Eve thinks. She’s not used to having this much control in the bedroom, not that they were in the bedroom. Eve thinks for a few moments, her thoughts getting constantly scrambled from the way Villanelle feels around her. “Get off me.”

Villanelle is genuinely shocked and a look of fear crosses her face. She backs off immediately after she realizes what Eve just said. “Eve- I,” she starts. The worry is boiling under her skin and bad endings flash forward in her mind. Did she fuck up? What if she ruined them forever? Realistically she knows there’s no way Eve couldn’t have been working them up to this, but still her mind is spinning. Eve cuts her off, “No- I just need room to do this.” Eve knows the effect she has on Villanelle and she lets her swim in confusion and fear for a few moments before Eve slinks off the counter and starts slipping a shoulder out of her dress. Then the other. Villanelle balances herself out and is back in the game, to her pleasure. _What a dick_ , Villanelle thinks. The fear dissipates from Villanelle’s face as she watches Eve free her shoulders from the straps of the dress. Now back on the same wavelength, Villanelle turns Eve around roughly with one hand on her hip, punishment for before, while the other makes its way up to Eve’s zipper. Eve’s back gets goosebumps as Villanelle’s tender fingers tease the top of her dress. Villanelle’s eyes are wide as if she were a child opening a present on Christmas morning. She never needs to receive another present ever again after this, Villanelle thinks.

Warm breath dances on the back of Eve’s neck as Villanelle works the zipper down. The sight of Eve’s smooth skin unperturbed by any undergarments is shaking Villanelle to her core. When her fingers reach the bottom of the dress and the zipper has nowhere further to go, Villanelle stops. Eve turns around to face her. “Give me your hands,” she demands softly. Taking Villanelle’s hands into her own, Eve moves them to the top of her dress and pulls it down so that it rests midway around her ribs, exposing her breasts to the crisp kitchen air. Villanelle’s eyes immediately drop to them and Eve can feel her gaze burning into her pronounced chest. Slowly, Eve moves Villanelle’s hands over her nipples and she closes her eyes, trying not to do too much too quickly. Villanelle already has other plans though and takes it upon herself to start cupping Eve’s breasts herself; kneading them around as if she were making a dough. Eve’s grip loosens and she lets Villanelle do what she wants. The effort it takes for Eve not to make noises is beyond what she thought it would be. Villanelle can sense she’s holding back and drops her lips to just above Eve’s nipples. She breathes over them lightly and then consumes them all at once. Upon contact, Eve is immediately grunting for air. Where did she learn to do this? Eve never assumed Villanelle to be this into tits, but apparently, she was wrong. Eve’s hips lead themselves forward, trying to find Villanelle on instinct, and she notices this. A little huff of laughter comes out of Villanelle as she slows her workings of Eve’s breasts. “If you won’t tell me what to do at least your body will,” Villanelle jokes in that sinister and sexy manner that comes so naturally to her.

Suddenly Eve is up in the air and she can feel Villanelle’s arms around her, gently placing her on the dining table. How many years had she and Niko lived here and not once did they fuck on this table? Reparations for years of mundanity, Eve thinks. _Thank god_. Without skipping a beat, Villanelle moves to free Eve from her dress, slipping it down with ease and purpose. “Jesus,” Eve breathes heavily, “you don’t waste any time.” Villanelle releases the last stretch of the dress from Eve’s ankles. Her hands find their way back to the top of Eve’s thighs and she runs her fingers over Eve’s impeccably smooth skin for half a moment. “Yes well, I am starved.” And then, as if God himself has willed it, Villanelle pushes Eve further back onto the table and saddles up on top of her. Eve almost hopes she’d melt into the wooden table before it happens, because she knows once it does she’ll never be the same again. She’ll never be the Eve who settles for mediocre, obligatory sex on a weekday again. She’ll never be the Eve who buys the cheapest option only because it’s on sale again. She’ll never be her Eve again. She’ll be Villanelle’s Eve.

With a soft force, Villanelle opens Eve’s legs and ventures toward the south end of the table. Villanelle wonders how long Eve will last. Hell, how long she’ll even last if it comes to that. She is twenty-six and perpetually aroused, not to mention what Eve does to her. Instead, Villanelle focuses her attention on Eve. She runs her fingers over Eve’s wetness and is pleasantly surprised to find her fully prepared. Is this what a night of play with her did to Eve? Villanelle is flattered. In order to get more comfortable (and also to rid herself of a few layers) Villanelle strips off her coat and jacket in one swift motion, letting them tumble to the floor. Usually, she would care about keeping up with her highly glamorous and presumably very expensive clothes, but tonight she didn’t. She had wine and now a beautiful woman splayed out on a table for her, waiting. She had Eve. She _has_ Eve.

* * *

Eve grips the sides of the table in preparation for what is to come. Villanelle lets out a giggle, “that is wise.” Before Eve can clock Villanelle’s comment she’s struck by Villanelle’s tongue inside her. Had Eve ever been eaten out before this? Her mind is a void, she can’t remember. All she knows is Villanelle is _inside_ her and she’s moving in deep, robust motions as if there’s something well inside of Eve that she’s trying to coax out. Villanelle’s muscular hands are clutching Eve’s thighs and moving higher up towards her hips as she finds she needs more leverage to keep sliding deeper and deeper and deeper into Eve. Between dramatic breaths, Eve is able to get her head up to look down at Villanelle and the sight of her almost makes her pass out, her heading knocking back onto the table rapidly. She knows if she keeps looking down at her she’ll finish, and it hadn’t even been that long at all yet. Or had it? Time started and stopped with Villanelle’s tongue, and Eve can’t keep up. From where she’s at, Eve can hear Villanelle groaning into her from below. The reverberations hit Eve in just the right spot and everything about this is exactly how she’d imagined. If this is what sex was supposed to be like, then Eve had been a virgin up until this point. Her nails are scratching into the table so hard she thinks they might split off into fragments that she’ll have to clean up later. 

Without notice, Villanelle removes herself from inside of Eve and says petulantly, “talk to me!” It comes out a little louder than she intended, but she’s not embarrassed and knows that Eve will comply. She’s doing too much too well for Eve to risk her stopping. Villanelle plunges back down into Eve and a sharp gasp hits the air just above Eve. “V-,” Eve starts, unsure of where to go. “Y-yes, baby,” she continues. Eve is close, despite Villanelle just returning to her normal occupation. She feels a _humph_ type grunt come into her from below and Eve knows Villanelle wants her to keep talking to her. “You’re doing such a good job, baby,” Eve continues, wanting to satisfy Villanelle, not that she thinks it could ever be as much as Villanelle’s satisfying her right now. “Sweet, baby…” Eve’s right hand is almost piercing through the wooden table. The idea of her nails being entirely torn up excites her. _In out in out_.Eve’s hips are twisting and thrusting up into Villanelle’s face now, growing bold. If there was more to be had, she’s going to get it. As if it’s natural to her, Eve moves her left hand down onto Villanelle’s head, pushing her further into herself. “Fuck, baby,” Eve whimpers as she motions Villanelle’s head into just the right spot. “I-,” Eve can barely muster the words, “I’m so close.” She’d have time to mull over and be embarrassed about these words later, but for right now Eve is fully Villanelle’s. Knowing just how close she is, Villanelle whips one of Eve’s legs up over her shoulder quickly and keeps up with the motion. “No, I’m-,” Eve’s digging into Villanelle’s head and she briefly worries about suffocating her, but before she can question it, “Shit, baby please.” She cums hard into Villanelle’s face as she brings up her right hand behind Villanelle’s head for extra support. Villanelle doesn’t let up until well after she’s aware that Eve’s orgasming. It’s almost too much. “Ok, ok, baby,” Eve rambles as she loosens her grip on Villanelle’s head and lets her release herself from inside Eve. Eve has to start nudging the young woman’s head away as Villanelle takes her time aching over the release as if she were a calf being weaned off its mother's milk. Villanelle remains down under Eve for moments following, brushing her cheeks and lips against the warmth of Eve’s thighs like a cat smoothing over its owner's skin. This might be even more intimate than the tongue fucking itself.

When Villanelle gradually ascends back up to look at Eve her face is slick with fluid. “Jesus,” Eve laughs, “you’re soaked.” A sticky smile. “Yes, well. You came, a lot,” Villanelle says matter-of-factly. Truly, Villanelle’s face is coated in a translucent film from cheek to cheek and its evidence of how ravenous she had become, how ravenous Eve had made her. Villanelle saunters off the table and glides over to where the dish towels are kept. “I’m sorry, where are my table manners?” Villanelle jokes. She wipes her face first, cheek to cheek and then down to her chin, making sure to clear herself of Eve’s remnants, no matter how much she wants to keep them on her. After her face is cleansed of Eve, she walks over to the table and puts a hand on Eve’s thigh, moving it tenderly out of the way. She dips the cloth down into Eve and takes her time moving it up and out. Eve is still so sensitive after her orgasm that she shutters at Villanelle’s touch. Villanelle notices this and is pleased; she really did do a good job.

* * *

Eve slowly rises from the table, suddenly feeling very naked (even though that’s exactly what she is). Her eyes bounce around searching for where the dress ended up. Villanelle notices and instead grabs her coat from the floor, draping it over Eve and tucking her well inside it. She takes her time smoothing its edges over Eve’s skin. “Well,” Eve breaks the momentary silence, “what now?” Villanelle cocks an eyebrow and leans in close to Eve’s ear, whispering, “My turn.” Eve, still perched on the edge of the table, can feel herself getting wet again. Eve reaches a hand out from underneath the coat to grab for Villanelle, but she turns around abruptly and leaves the kitchen. A second later, Eve hears the front door slam shut. _What the hell?_ Did Villanelle really just leave Eve soaking wet, right before it was to be her turn? Eve is confused, but that's nothing new for her. She quickly peels herself off the table and darts upstairs, grabbing her phone out of her drawer. Villanelle wasn’t just going to leave her like this.

_To: V_

_From: Eve_

_Where the fuck did you go?_

Eve feels utterly powerless, but she sends the text anyway. She still yearns for Villanelle, and the night is too young for her to be gone this soon. Villanelle better have a damn good reason for leaving, Eve thinks, _or she’s going to fucking kill her._

Buzz.

_To: Eve_

_From: V_

_Don’t worry, we’re not finished. I just have to get something. Be back soon, baby. xx_


	3. Chapter 3

Eve feels a void; a gaping canyon welling deep inside her. So much at once and now nothing. How could Villanelle leave? Even if she was coming back, Eve couldn’t help but depress into herself. She tosses her phone on her bedside table and throws herself back onto the bed, allowing her swimming mind to melt into her comforter. At this point, the throbbing between Eve’s legs has muted but her desire still simmers just below the surface, ready for Villanelle’s return at any moment. She yearns in a way she hadn’t before. Now that she’s had Villanelle she knows she won’t be able to live without her. Eve is no longer herself, as she knew she wouldn’t be. She aches.

Eve makes no moves to change or shower or undress or do anything other than pine over Villanelle. Besides, she’s becoming exhausted waiting for Villanelle, especially after the way she just came. The night is young and peaceful, little droplets of rain prodding the windows occasionally. The sound lulls Eve into the darkness and she stares out her bedroom window at the moon. It reminds her of Villanelle’s skin. Smooth and bright and forever comforting, but always encapsulated by mystery. When will she be back? What did “be right back” mean to Villanelle? Eve thinks about her own concept of time in comparison to Villanelle’s. It could be seconds or days until her return, Eve knows. Time isn’t a novelty the two share.

The minutes pass like weeks. Within ten of them, Eve is shifting to place her head onto her pillow, turning away from the light of the moon to exist in the shadows resting on the other side of her bedroom. The lack of light begins nodding her off to sleep, and the last thing she sees in her mind is Villanelle’s fierce eyes looking up at her; dark and green and wide and always ever-changing to land on her.

* * *

The moonlight is cast across Eve’s body, playing on her skin and curves. Even in her sleep she seems taxed as if her dreams are riddles and she is actively sorting them out. This adds up, because Villanelle is often, if not always, one of those riddles. Villanelle is different in Eve’s dreams though, and Eve still can’t quite figure out why. Because in real life Villanelle is capable of being malleable, pliant, and almost-human, but in Eve’s dreams she consistently is not. Eve knows deep down it’s her own psyche protecting itself from the frightening realization that Villanelle may be capable of humanity, a fact powerful enough that it could evoke something far grander in Eve than she wants to allow. But for now, her mind is on her side.

The sound of carefully placed yet entirely stern footsteps enters the room. Eve remains asleep, yet somewhere in her, she knows there’s a presence in the room. The riddle folds in on itself and all the work she had done in her short dream is scrapped. Her slumber still overtakes her.

Villanelle’s hair is slightly wet and little droplets line her skin; her face and neck glisten in the light coming in from the window. The moon was and is always a friend to her. Villanelle considers just watching Eve sleep, and she does for a short time. Her silent gaze paints itself over Eve’s bodice for a few long moments, it’d pain her to look away. In Eve’s sleep, she is so beautiful, Villanelle thinks, even though she knows the thoughts that secretly run through her. There’s beauty in those too, she thinks as well. Villanelle’s gaze is icy and lascivious now, staring down Eve like a wolf stalks a lamb; cool and calculated and most importantly- _hungry_.

Before inviting herself any further, Villanelle unlaces her boots and sets them on the ground next to the door. It had been a little rainy outside, and she thought it rude to track dirt into Eve’s bed. Being rid of the boots, Villanelle treads over to the side of the bed opposite Eve and lightly slides herself onto it, careful not to wake Eve, yet. Her face pads the pillow next to Eve and it smells like her. Warm and welcoming and just damn _good_. Villanelle is just mere inches away from Eve’s hair and she moves closer in to spoon her from behind, softly tracing her fingertips along the length of Eve’s curves. She nuzzles her face deeper into Eve’s thick curls and inhales deeply. It’s so heavenly she could cry, and she might. The smell is altogether comforting and arousing. Villanelle slowly reaches a hand down and unbuckles her pants.

It’s when Villanelle traces a line down Eve’s body that she starts waking up. She knows those fingers, they certainly aren’t Niko’s. She feels Villanelle nestle into her from behind, resting her face in her hair and her hands on her hips. This is the tenderness that is so inexplicable to her, she thinks, but places that thought into a box for her to unpack later. It’s not until Eve feels something resting in between her thighs that she _actually_ wakes up. It’s something she’s never felt before. It’s hard and it’s present, but not entirely impatient. Villanelle caresses a long finger down along Eve’s skin and under her body, finding where she desperately wanted to be. Eve can’t help but be wet. She had been wet waiting, and she is now too. Villanelle teases a finger along Eve’s entrance, never dipping in, and positions her body even closer, preparing for what she thinks and hopes is coming.

Villanelle’s soft yet firm hands continue to prod Eve’s wetness and she knows she’s being prepped. For a moment, Eve considers letting Villanelle go through with it and actually fuck her, but she knows she has a personal agenda to uphold. She has to take self-preservation into account as well. “You’re back,” Eve grumbles out and turns over onto her back, pushing Villanelle out of the way with her left hand so as to not land on her. Villanelle has been displaced, and she’s a bit stunned, but she’s committed to the cause. “Yes baby, I’m back for you,” she says deep and smooth while trying to edge herself nearer to Eve again. She is met with a hand on her chest, keeping her at a distance. “You left me. On my kitchen table. After fucking me. Is this what you want? For me to be constantly waiting for you?” Eve spits out. She wanted Villanelle to fuck her more than anything, but she couldn’t let her think this was alright. “Eve, I-,” Villanelle starts again, “I came back.” Eve can feel how fast Villanelle’s heart is beating through her chest. “I didn’t think it would affect you so much, Eve,” Villanelle says, filling the short silence. “Yeah well, you affect me,” Eve says, not intending it to sound like a compliment. “Your words are soft with me Eve, yet you are still so stern,” Villanelle says through a cautious smile, resting her hand over Eve’s. “Besides, I thought you’d enjoy this,” Villanelle suggests as she attempts to slide herself back to Eve’s entrance. The head is resting just atop Eve’s wetness and she almost completely gives in, allowing Villanelle to ravage her entirely, but she holds strong. Eve’s anger is winning over her want, albeit by a thin margin.

“Take it off, now,” Eve demands, moving Villanelle’s hands off her, and using her own to search for the buckles on Villanelle’s person. A petulant groan escapes Villanelle; one that reads both _what_ and _why?_ Upon finding the buckles, Eve makes quick work of undoing them and says to Villanelle, “Take off the rest of your pants.” Villanelle isn’t one to submit so easily. “Why should I do that, Eve?” She attempts to hold some control over the situation now that she’s seemingly lost it in such a short time. “Because I can’t fuck you with your pants on.” Eve’s gaze holds firm and Villanelle can feel that darkness enter her once again. Eve’s darkness, and she craves it.

Surprisingly cooperative, Villanelle gets herself up from the bed and removes her pants and underwear. Where she’d normally tease and do a bit of a performance, she doesn’t now. She knows what both she and Eve want, and jokes have no place from here on apparently. The tides have turned and if Villanelle was being honest she’d admit that she’s afraid of being entirely engulfed by Eve and washed away. With this fear also comes a hunger equally as powerful. Villanelle looks on as Eve gets herself ready, which takes less than a minute. For someone with presumably no experience in this area, Eve does well and Villanelle is impressed. Villanelle stands alongside the bed, nude now and waiting.

“Come here,” Eve finally says, ushering Villanelle onto her bed. Eve sits on her knees upright while waiting for Villanelle to move over to her. Villanelle’s movements are slow and calculated. She crawls onto the bed and then sits upright as well, meeting Eve face to face. She’s already so wet its embarrassing, considering how little it took from Eve to get her to this point. Eve hadn’t even touched her yet. The long game was one she played well. Villanelle shifts in place, feeling her wetness already coating the backs of her legs. “I’m here,” Villanelle says trying not to sound impatient. Eve responds by pushing her back into the bed and forcefully spreading her legs. A singular _Jesus_ escapes Eve’s mouth almost inaudibly. Her hands slide up to Villanelle’s hips and pull her down so that she is resting nearly inside her. Villanelle stifles a whimper from the abrupt movement and Eve notices. She logs it for later; she will hear that whimper if its the last thing she does. One of Eve’s hands creeps up Villanelle’s thigh and begins toying with her. Eve already knows she’s wet, but she enjoys it nonetheless. Villanelle’s jaw clenches tightly and she tries bringing up a hand to rest on Eve’s arm, but it is swiftly swatted away. “I’ll tell you when you get to touch me again,” Eve says, and Villanelle just nods slightly from underneath her, eagerly awaiting Eve’s next move.

Once Eve’s hips are aligned she teases the head into Villanelle, pulling out when almost the entirety of it is inside. It only takes three of these teasing movements for a frown to settle in Villanelle’s brow. Her hands tug at the sheets beneath her since she isn’t allowed to touch Eve. An ache is boiling low within her and she feels like she could be ill. “Eve, this is cruel you know,” Villanelle finally utters out of unbalanced breaths. “Oh, is it?” Eve says mercilessly, pulling out once again from inside Villanelle. A high gasp shocks the air. Villanelle is unraveling, and Eve knows it. A well of tears forms in the corners of Villanelle’s eyes and Eve can read the _please, please, please_ leaking out of them. Eve plunges inside Villanelle once again and removes herself just as quickly in order to make sure Villanelle really wants it. _She does._

In one motion, Eve flips Villanelle onto her stomach and attacks her from behind. Villanelle is so wet for Eve she slides right back in, and Villanelle arches her back up so Eve can get better access. A rough and eager motion takes form with Eve penetrating Villanelle intensely from behind. The ache deep within Villanelle is beginning to let up, but it’s nowhere near satisfying. For now, she’s just relieved to have Eve inside her for more than a second. Eve pushes herself into Villanelle’s back and whispers, “Will you leave me again?” _No, no, God, how could I?_ Villanelle almost laughs at the absurdity of the question but she’s far too aroused, and far too close. Eve slows down her thrusts, waiting for an answer from Villanelle. Villanelle whimpers at the reduced speed and moans “Never.” Eve can give her what she wants now. And she will. Right there in the bed, she laid in with her husband for fifteen years, now sodden with new memories and promises and desires. Eve seizes Villanelle’s hips and forces them up further. Villanelle is being ravaged and it's causing her to rip through the shitty, mediocre sheets lining Eve’s bed. It doesn’t matter, she’ll buy Eve new ones for her to rip up. Villanelle’s hips are now bucking back into Eve as she penetrates her, and she knows she’s close. A string of exasperated moans starts releasing themselves from Villanelle, leading up to a grand symphony of whimpers as she pushes back into Eve two or three final times. After she’s sure Villanelle is finished, Eve is able to slide right out.

_Fuck, I just did that._ Eve is pleased with herself, but she doesn’t show it. She remains stoic even now being extremely aroused herself from just hearing Villanelle’s orgasm. She drops next to Villanelle on the bed, who has her face stuffed into the comforter, heavy breathing waning. After a few moments of silence and recovery, Villanelle brings her face up near Eve’s.

“Can I touch you yet?”

**Author's Note:**

> title is taken from Will Oldham's song "I See a Darkness". this fic will be getting spicier and will spike to an explicit rating next chapter.


End file.
